


The Southern Mishap

by Talullah



Series: Trick-or-Treat Ficlets 2014 [3]
Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-22
Updated: 2014-11-22
Packaged: 2018-02-26 14:30:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2655434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Talullah/pseuds/Talullah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gildor has to accept unwanted help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Southern Mishap

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Jaiden_S](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jaiden_S/gifts).



> Trick-or-Treat fic for jaiden_s, who asked for Gildor, messy hair and a note. ;)  
> Sorry, hun, I wasn't slash orientated on this one. ;)

**Near the Crossing of Poros, Second Age 803**

Gildor woke with a thundering headache. He flinched as his fingers found the bump on the top of his head. From the previous night he remembered little. The plan was simple – to jump from the trees as the Haradrim caravan passed by, to involve the guards in a skirmish, giving the impression of a roadside heist, to save the hostage and to be gone before anyone noticed that the thieves had pointy ears and _mithril_ weaponry. What on Arda could go wrong? He certainly had had much more complicated missions.

He yawned and stretched on the bed, trying not to think whose was it or how he had gotten there. At least he was on a bed and not on the roadside. 

His arm touched something cool as he moved. He felt it with his hand: a piece of parchment. Cursing inwardly, he pried his eyes open and glanced around. It looked like a room at an inn. Maybe “The Amorous Herald”? It smelled like that Varda-forsaken tavern, an unforgettable stench of drying fish permeating every single 

Gildor’s survival instinct kicked in. He looked around as he pushed his messy hair back and tied it around itself. The room was empty but there was a cloak on a chair that was not his. He reached for the note. 

_Dearest Lord Gildor,_

_Your truly humble servant was so deeply honoured with your presence last night. I cannot thank you enough the grace you bestowed upon me, of letting me help you in your predicament._

_I shall return briefly with breakfast._

_Eternally yours,  
Lindir _

Gildor sighed and fell back on the pillow. Lindir. The idiotic little thing not only had applied countless times to his Company, as now he had placed himself in danger. And the prose…! Could it be more florid? How on Arda had he managed to follow Gildor so far south from Ost-en-Edhil without being noticed? And what was his role in the botched operation? If it turned out that Lindir had been the cause of the disaster, Gildor planned on hanging him by the balls from the highest mast in Círdan’s ships.

A soft knock interrupted Gildor’s thoughts, as he searched for his boots. The person opened the door without waiting for his reply.

“Lord Gildor, how glad am I to see you up,” said Lindir as he negotiated the door while balancing a tray in one hand. “How is your head? Here, I brought you bacon and eggs. The inn keeper did not have fruit or fresh bread or anything else, really.” 

Before Gildor could reply, Lindir shot another round of questions, placing the tray by Gildor’s side, on the mattress. “Are you feeling well? Please eat, and then I can tell you the news.”

Gildor breathed deeply, before opening his mouth but it had little effect on his nerves. “Lindir! What are you doing here? Sit down and stop talking. Shouldn’t you be teaching little teleri how to play the flute without scaring cats to death? And what on Manwë’s name had you to do with last night? For how long have you been following us? Answer!”

As soon as he was done with his outburst, Gildor regretted it. His skull felt as if it was about to crack.

“My lord,” started Lindir, looking so smug Gildor felt like rising up and choking him to death with burned bacon. “I have indeed been following your Company for a while. You have rejected me for many a times, alleging that I had no talent for war or espionage. I set myself to prove you wrong and there it is – none of you noticed me in the slightest for the last two moons.”

Gildor squinted at Lindir, hoping that rays would shoot from his eyes and fry him on the spot. “Continue.”

Lindir grinned, blatantly ignoring Gildor’s scowl. “Then, last night, I finally had a chance to prove my valour! I-”

Gildor jumped up. “You meddled with the operation and now it’s all ruined!”

“I did not!” Lindir looked so offended Gildor almost pitied him, but he was too furious at the thought that he had been followed without noticing it, that he kept going.

“Oh you didn’t? Then how come _this_ happened?” Gildor asked, gesturing about himself.

“Your man, Rainor feel from the branch above you, taking you with him to the ground. Do you remember nothing?”

Gildor shook his head, furious and having a hard time believing Lindir’s story. True, Rainor had drank a few tankards and he was becoming a tad rotund but surely not…

“The Company had to attack earlier, to protect you both and while they fended off the Haradrim, I sneaked into the cart and snuck out the hostage. Dúvenor saw us sneaking in to the woods and called the retreat.”

“Where are they now?” Gildor asked.

“They are in the larger private room downstairs, waiting for us.”

“Why, why would they be downstairs and leave me in the hands of someone who is not one of the Company?”

For the first time Lindir was silent, a fearsome blush spreading from his cheeks to his neck. Despite his irritation, Gildor felt a pang of contrition. If Lindir was saying the truth, he should be thanking him instead of berating…

Lindir bowed. “If you’ll excuse me, my Lord,” he said, picking up his cloak and leaving the room.

“Ay,” Gildor whimpered. His bump was starting to mightily throb again, his breakfast was cold and he had A Situation on his hands – hostage to deliver, sulky elf to… deal with. He gulped down the grey eggs, put on his boots and went downstairs. His men were indeed waiting for him. With a nod, he called Haeronel to the side.

“My Lord,” she said tersely. 

Gildor lifted an eyebrow. “Report, please,” he commanded, wondering about her mood.

“I believe young Lindir has done that already, Sir.”

Gildor inhaled deeply. “I take reports from the members of our Company only, Haeronel.”

“Well, then, my Lord. You did write in the statutes that, in your impediment, the second in command would assume all of your functions, one of which is to accept new members and the other is to relieve of duty those in need of it.”

Gildor felt his jaw drop. “What have you done, woman?”

“Sir, the Company is unanimous on this. Lindir fits all the requirements and has proven himself. In fact, he saved the day. Do you know he broke his lyre in the Harad captain’s head to stop him from beheading Fuirel?”

Gildor closed his eyes. “This is mutiny, you know that?”

Haeronel smiled smugly.

“Alright,” Gildor conceded. “It seems I will have to swallow this one down. You were really quick in adjusting to your interim position, Haeronel, weren’t you?”

“Quite so, Sir. As you expect us to be. I didn’t, however, dismiss Rainor, much as I wanted to. I think it would be kinder if you were to suggest that he stayed in Ost-in-Edhil for a while, tending to his mother’s business. She speaks of sailing, Lórien only knows why.”

Gildor nodded. “Well thought. Well, are we ready to leave? The less time we spend here…”

“Completely ready, Sir,” Haeronel replied. Gildor motioned forward but she stood in his way. “There is only a small detail…” She looked over her shoulder in the direction of Lindir. “A kind word, perhaps?”

Gildor nodded. He had to apologize to Lindir and welcome him. And in the long road back to Ost-en-Edhil, and then to Mithlond, he had to ponder why he felt so irritated whenever Lindir was around. He didn’t quite dislike him, but that eagerness to please, that unwavering optimist, the sheer determination… He realized that Lindir reminded him of a much younger version of himself. 

He decided to keep things simple. He crossed the room and placed one hand on Lindir’s shoulder, while, with the other, he drew the crescent moon on his forehead.

“Welcome to the Wandering Company of Our Lady Elbereth, and may her stars always light your path and your heart. This brotherhood is sacred. May it be your home and your harbour.”

Upon hearing the formal welcoming, the company started cheering and clapping. Gildor pulled Lindir closer, in the ceremonial embrace. 

“Apologies if I was curt before,” he said in Lindir’s ear.

“No need to apologize, my Lord,” Lindir replied as they parted. “I know I can be… insistent. But I will not wreck your nerves henceforth. You will never regret this.”

Gildor wasn’t that sure but what was done, was done.

“Well, time to go!” he ordered. They had already stayed overlong and a party of angry Haradrim was sure to be about searching for them. It was time to head back North.

_Finis  
November 2014_

**Author's Note:**

> Sindarin names from this generator: http://elf.namegeneratorfun.com/
> 
> [Disclaimer/Blanket Statement](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Talullah/profile)


End file.
